


Gunpowder, Treason and Romance Plots

by chewsdaychillin



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Fireworks, Fluff, Guy Fawkes Night, Holding Hands, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, but its ok! he has a plan!, its polycule time......, sasha has to witness three boys being cute and messy, tim has two boys on the go and theyre pining for each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:55:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24884191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chewsdaychillin/pseuds/chewsdaychillin
Summary: They had made Jon promise to come back in April; it’s been on the wall chart for months.‘He’ll be there,’ Tim had promised, plonking himself firmly back in his office chair and wheeling over to Jon’s door. ‘Signed, sealed, delivered, okay?’*guy fawkes voice* gee tim, how come on the day i tried to blow up parliament you get two boyfriends?
Relationships: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Tim Stoker, jtmcu
Comments: 20
Kudos: 261





	Gunpowder, Treason and Romance Plots

**Author's Note:**

> guy fawkes night/bonfire night/november 5th is a holiday(? i guess?) in the uk bc this guy (heh) tried to blow up parliament but got caught so we burn models of him and have fireworks ? its fun 
> 
> toffee apples are... apples w set caramel/toffee around them and candy floss is cotton candy / fairy floss

They had made Jon promise to come back in April; it’s been on the wall chart for months. 

It’s six now. Kick off is supposed to be at seven. Martin and Sasha have gone on ahead. Or rather, Sasha had dragged Martin out at quarter-past five, insisting he go home and change and _stop worrying_. 

‘He’ll be there,’ Tim had promised, plonking himself firmly back in his office chair and wheeling over to Jon’s door. ‘Signed, sealed, delivered, okay?’

And he’d meant it. It’s all part of the plan he’s concocting. Simple addition really: he likes Jon, he likes Martin, they both like him, or at least they’re giving him that impression so he bloody well hopes they do. Then there’s the kicker: Martin likes Jon (a lot), Jon is... well, Martin will despondently say he doesn’t, but Tim is sure from his little side eyes, devoid of any actual meanness, that he’s falling too. 

It sounds a mess. Sasha has told him as much many times when he’s been flopped, wine-drunk over the back of her sofa, pining over both of them and whining about their completely ridiculous absurd levels of obliviousness and -

Anyway. Sasha’s raised eyebrows be damned, it’s going to work. November fifth is all about plotting, anyway. And what’s a more romantic plot than this? Fireworks and all that. 

‘Come on, we’ll be late,’ Tim says brightly. ‘Brought a scarf?’ 

Jon doesn’t look up from the folder he’s flicking through. Even when Tim comes to sit on the edge of his desk he just um’s and ah’s. Which is very normal, but the bags under his eyes are particularly dark and tender looking today, so Tim doesn’t take the mick or remind him that he promised. 

‘What?’ He asks instead. ‘What are you worrying about?’ 

Jon puts his pen down, finally. Tim takes his empty hand and kisses the back of it. It’s worked in the past. It half works now. He gets a mumbled reply that sounds something like ‘the others’.

‘The others?’ Tim asks, eyebrow raised. ‘The others being Martin and Sasha? You know you don’t have to pretend to not like candy floss in front of them, right?’

‘It’s not the candy floss that concerns me, Tim.’ 

Tim throws his hands up, both of them and Jon’s that he’s still holding. 

‘Fine, fine. Look, I’ll be professional, okay?’ Jon gives him a sceptical look. His sceptical looks are so cute it makes Tim regret everything he’s promising but - this is the long game. ‘Purely corporate Bonfire Night,’ he promises. 

Purely corporate is going to be difficult, Tim realises as soon as they arrive. It’s a slightly damp evening, and the leaves are mushy and slippery which makes Jon wrinkle his nose in a way he doesn’t realise is endearing. He holds Tim’s arm as he tries not to slip and Tim’s chest swells with the pleasure of chivalry. 

When they get there Jon drops his arm, which is fine, at least he drops it like he doesn’t want to, and his eyebrows go all gentle when they reach the others. Tim knows why. Martin and Sasha are already holding toffee apples and Martin has sticky sugar clinging to his lips and _oh my God_ how is Tim supposed to cope with the two of them. 

‘Here we are,’ he says triumphantly, trying not to look at Sasha’s amused eyebrow as it climbs to her hairline. ‘Just in time.’ 

‘We didn’t know what you wanted,’ Martin apologises, in reference to the snacks. ‘But the queue isn’t long, if you want something before it kicks off?’ 

He looks so happy, hair frizzy, cheeks pink in the November chill, thrilled that Jon has actually shown up and isn’t wearing a tie. If Tim were someone else, if any of them were, he might be jealous. As it stands it warms him right through to see, and his palms are sweating enough he takes his gloves off. 

‘Um,’ Jon says, and Tim holds back a sigh. 

He’s going to say ‘ _no, thank you_ ’ because he doesn’t want to be a pain and he doesn’t want a repeat of the rum and raisin incident. And then Martin’s smile will slide off his face which hurts Tim to see every time and rather puts a spanner in the works of his plan.

But then - 

‘That... yeah,’ Jon says like he’s trying a whole new language. ‘That sounds like a good idea.’ 

_Oh okay,_ Tim thinks as he watches them smiling at each other, then at their shoes. (They’re always bloody doing that. Martin could probably draw the weird way Jon ties his double bows from memory. Jon has stopped complaining that Martin’s trainers aren’t professional.) The plot thickens. 

They do get candy floss after all, and watching them making eyes at each other across it, watching pink melting on Jon’s tongue and Martin smiling when he’s asked ‘want some?’, is almost too much for Tim. Worst is Sasha’s still watching _him_ and trying not to piss herself laughing. But how can he be blamed! When this is happening right in front of him! What is he supposed to do with himself! 

They shuffle around a bit, taking in the makeshift carnival that’s been thrown together on the school field before the show begins. (These things always run late.) 

He gets a good laugh in with Sasha, makes her promise to say nothing (‘ _nothing,_ not a peep, Ms James!’) in exchange for warming her cold hands on his blushing ears. 

He manages to enjoy some lovely fireside warmth, and even share some cracking unprofessional eye-contact with Jon through the smoke. 

Martin tugs him behind a food truck whilst the other two are, predictably, already planning the way to the best view. When he kisses Tim he tastes like Jon’s candy floss and he’s smiling. 

‘Listen,’ Tim says, unable to hold anything in when he’s excited, or, as usual, when he’s with Martin. ‘I’ve got a plan.’ 

‘Ohh kay?’ Martin starts to ask him, ‘what-?’ 

But someone is crackling through a megaphone and a crowd is gathering, rattling the fence. So they head over, holding hands slyly inside Tim’s pocket. 

The display is beautiful. Fireworks bang into the inky, smoky sky like exploding kaleidoscopes, and Tim is sandwiched close between all the people he cares about. After each bang or two there’s a moment for the lads in hi-vis to scamper to the next one, and in those moments everyone shuffles a bit to keep warm, smiles to each other and says ‘good, wasn’t it? That one was good.’ Tim likes those moments as much as the lights. 

He still has Martin’s hand in his pocket - it goes unnoticed, squished as close as they are. His other hand is pressed so close to Jon’s that they might as well be touching too. Another rocket goes off and Tim bites the bullet. Takes it, holds it low, squeezed discretely between their thighs. 

As the falling sparks come down, Tim doesn’t look up. Instead he looks next to him, at how the light shines brighter reflected in Jon’s eyes. Jon doesn’t look like his professional tight-tied work-self at all. He’s looking up, for once, his face open, eyes wide and brows, for once, relaxed. God and he looks so beautiful. 

Tim looks at Martin, expecting to find him watching too, expecting them to share something in the moment. But he isn’t looking. He’s watching the fireworks with Sasha, missing the whole show. 

_Oh for goodness sake,_ Tim thinks. They’ll never do this on their own. Sod bloody corporate fireworks. 

‘Back in a sec,’ he mutters, just as a huge banger goes off and the whole crowd ooh’s. 

Then he dips hastily back in one smooth motion, freeing his left hand from Martin’s, his right from Jon’s and clapping them both together. He dashes away before they can catch him, doesn’t look back before he’s round the back of the food truck. Then, slowly, he turns around to check the damage. 

He expects to see them flustered, jumping back from each other like they’re holding hot coals rather than each other’s hands. But there is no damage. Jon is still watching the fireworks, a serene smile that really suits him still playing on his face. Only Martin seems to have noticed that Tim is even gone. But he isn’t panicking. He’s just staring down at Jon’s hand in his like it’s the most precious thing he’s ever held. 

Tim smiles. All according to plan.

**Author's Note:**

> This was done as a prompt fill for a donation to charity. I'm currently taking ficlet comm*ssi*ns to r*ise m*ney for The Bail Project and other BLM charities (ao3 doesn't like you taking m*oney on here hence the *) but head over to my tumblr if you are interested !
> 
> @babyyodablackwood x


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